“Dear Léon, he is quite old enough; he must be made to understand.”
He caught her arm, and pulled her playfully away.
“Understand? Bah! you are over-precise, chérie. Wait a year or two, and you shall preach at him as long as you will. Besides, I want you, and that is enough, or ought to be. Now, Raoul, run; I’ve begged you off this time.”
She looked at her husband and hesitated; then, without another word, let go the child and went with Léon. Jean, looking back, saw them walking by the side of the river, and monsieur had his hand on madame’s shoulder.
“For all that!” muttered Jean, thinking uncomfortably of Mlle. Claire.
Chapter Two.
How Poissy was Saved.
It was true, as Jean had murmured to himself, that Mme. Léon was by birth bourgeoise. As for the De Beaudrillarts, all France knew that they belonged, not only to the noblesse, but to the oldest of the noblesse. Their name was ancient. The church at Nonceaux, which at one time stood on the estate, was full of monuments of armed and curled Barons de Beaudrillart, lying stiffly under fretted canopies; old documents in the library of Tours carried their names centuries back, and their beautiful château was an object of interest to all the strangers who come into the neighbourhood.